


Potter in Sioux Falls

by CrazyArtChic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean Winchester Loves Pie, Female Harry Potter, Girl-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Hunters & Hunting, Pie, Protective Bobby Singer, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-04-05 16:59:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19044595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyArtChic/pseuds/CrazyArtChic
Summary: Harriette's done. She's saved the wizarding world, but they want more, and she's just done. Deciding a fresh start is in order, she heads for Sioux Falls, where her uncle Bobby lives. Doesn't expect to meet Sam and Dean Winchester, or nearly being shot, but fresh starts aren't always smooth, now are they?I don't own Harry Potter or Supernatural. Just rolling around in the worlds for a bit.





	1. Fresh Start

Chapter 1

 

Bobby Singer shot out of bed faster than he thought humanly possible, the second he heard a phone ring that hadn't made a sound in years. There was only one person who had the number to that phone. Hell, he'd thought she was dead, especially after the shit he saw on the news a while back. All those 'terrorist attacks', the bombings, the raids; Bobby knew them for what they had truly been. Even now that everything was quiet again, that country was having a hard time recovering.

“Bobby? Bobby, so help me, if you don't answer this phone in the next five seconds, I'm gonna-”

 ** _“Harriette?_** Is that you?” Bobby cut in, knowing that if he didn't, that girl would go on a full on tirade and he'd never hear the end of it. “Where the _**hell**_ have you been?”

“You **_do_** realize you're the only one that can call me that, right, old man?” She asked, not yet answering, before sighing heavily. “It's a long story Bobby. I kicked ass, saved the world, helped them cobble it together a little till they could stand on their own, and now they want me to do all the work and put it back together for them. I need to get away before they try and make me Minister of Magic or something.”

“Shit, girl.” Bobby whistled. “That's some sum up.”

“You're not kidding.” Harriette replied, with a snort. “You mind if I pop over for a visit? I've never been across the pond before. Who knows? I might like it so much you may never be able to get rid of me.”

“You say that, but you haven't seen my house yet.” Bobby said, looking at the books he had piled up everywhere. “You know the life, girl.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighed, and something in it told him she was reaching out to him as a life line.

“I'll try and straighten up the place, fix you up a room, buy some groceries.” He said, still looking at the organized mess that was his house.

“Oh my God, Bobby. Don't tell me you're still living on cheap beer.” Harriette scolded him, playfully. “Gringott's pays you some major bank. You can afford top quality beer now.”

Unable to help himself, Bobby started laughing. “Just get your ass over here, idjit, and then we can swap stories over some of that top quality beer.”

“On my way, Unca.” She replied, cheerfully now. “See you in a few days.”

When she hung up, Bobby looked around his house and sighed. It was definitely not meant for visitors or guests. It was a hodge podge of book piles and notes, and there was no way he was going to be able to get this place cleaned up before she got here. It was barely fit for the boys, and they were use to this. That thought stopped him cold, wondering what the boys would think about the little witch that was coming to visit. If she survived, she'd certainly shake their understanding of what a true witch really was.

* * *

 

Harriette Potter drives through Sioux Falls, and falls in love with it almost instantly. It was nowhere near as small as Diagon Alley appeared to be, but it looked just as busy in places. It looked like it had so many places. The scenery was absolutely gorgeous, and there were so many places she wanted to see, but she was on a mission to find Bobby's house first, and she was starting to get pissed off. Every time she asked someone where his house was, they directed her to the Sheriff's department, which annoyed her. They could have just said they didn't know, and she wouldn't have thought any less of them for it.

Now, as she pulled into the Sherriff's department, she had to admit she probably should have come here first anyway. This place would have maps, and the cops had to know the area well enough to give her an idea of where to go. In all honesty, she could have used a point me spell; but she didn't want to try to do that and drive Sirius' bike all at the same time. There was another thing that had been steadily annoying her, but she was just a little too jet lagged to care at the moment. People here stared at her, which wasn't all that unusual, but it wasn't because of who she was; which was the unusual part.

Granted, she was decked out in one of those leather duster trench coat things, dark brown cargo pants, a dark blood red shirt, steal toed hiking boots, and sun glasses. So, on the whole, she looked like Sirius had tried to dress her, and to be fair he had made the clothing suggestions; not that they knew that bit, but she had to admit that she did not look like any of the people she saw milling about,  which had probably been his goal. There was enough magic swirling around her that it caught the attention of the local wizarding community, whom she had stopped to visit first, and they had taken notice. She was fortunate that Gringott's had a bank here as well, and while she could have used the Gringott's international floo network, no wizard (muggleborn, half-blood, or pure-blood) would think to check a muggle airline for Harriette Potter. She hadn't been kidding when she told Bobby she might settle here, and while her friends back in London would miss her, they would also understand why she had to leave. Many of them were doing the same, or taking jobs in the muggle world, anything to keep out of the public eye and those blasted reporters from the Daily Prophet.

There were several police officers coming in and out of the building she was walking towards, many of whom where now eyeing her motorcycle. She nodded politely to them with a smile, and entered the building. The people she'd asked so far, had told her to speak to a Sherriff Jody Mills. It wasn't hard to find her office, though it had been amusing when the people at the front desk had told her she couldn't go back there. The woman in question had looked equally surprised when Henrietta knocked on the door to her office.

“Civilians aren't allowed back here.” The short brown haired woman behind the desk stated, once she got over her surprise.

“That would apply, I suppose, if I were a civilian.” Harriette replied, with a good humoured soft smile, her accent clearly on display. “As it is, I was told you were the one to talk to on a matter on which I need help with.”

“I'm Sheriff Jody Mills, though from the sounds of things, you know that already. What can I help you with?” Sherriff Mills found herself asking.

“I'm trying to find Bobby Singer's residence.” Harriette admitted, and watched as the woman's face turned from curious to distasteful. “Everyone I ask sends me to you.”

“Oh.” Sherriff Mills said, with resignation. “I can see why they sent you to me. He's viewed as the town-”

“The next words out of your mouth had _**better**_ be something **_very_** pleasant, because if they are not, I won't be. That is my _**uncle**_ you're speaking of, and I will not hear you speak an ill word of him when it is clear to me that what you know about the man could barely fill a thimble.” Harriette stated, her voice cold as steel, catching the Sherriff's attention. “That man has more college degrees than you have picture frames on your wall, can speak more languages than you have fingers, and is without a doubt one of the most brilliant tacticians I have ever known. He is also one of the richest men in the United States, not that he brags about it. I would assume he would be allowed his eccentricities.”

Sherriff Mills' eyebrows rose to her forehead, before replying. “Alright then, Miss…?”

“Harriette Potter.” She said, reaching her hand out to shake the Sherriff's. “Terrible of me not to introduce myself before.”

“That's quite alright.” Mills reasoned, before grabbing her jacket and things as she was about to head out the door. “And you said you were Bobby's…neice?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Harriette replied, still a bit annoyed but trying not to let it show.

“Come on, I'll take you there.” Mills relented, seeing as how Henriette wasn't about to change her mind any time soon. “Bobby doesn't have the best reputation here. After the death of his wife…Well, let's just say he took it hard. I think people sent you to me hoping I could convince you against seeing him, but honestly? If you can chew him out like you just did me, you'll probably be good for him…Oh, for the love of…I take it the motorcycle is yours?”

They'd just made it outside of the police station. The men she'd seen eyeing the motorcycle as she went into the building hadn't really left. In fact, they looked like they were collectively drooling over it. Sherriff Mills started trying to corall them away from the bike, but they were having none of it. They started asking Harriette all kinds of questions about it, telling her how much they liked the look of it.

“Thank you. It's a 1959 Triumph 650 T 120 Bonneville I inherited from my godfather when I came of age; still asks to borrow it on the odd occasion. He actually used to take me riding in it when I was little, because it can have one of those side cars attached to it. She **_really_** flies.” Harriette couldn't help but add that last part. “But I can't stay. Sherriff Mills agreed to take me to Uncle Bobby's house so I can surprise him. He doesn't know I'm state side yet. Maybe I'll see you all around?”

Some were shocked that she would admit she was Bobby's family, but weren't put off by it. Others looked a bit disgusted, and sneered at her. Sherriff Mills finally managed to get them to leave the motorbike alone, and the two were off. Harriette was very much looking forward to starting her new life here, free from the expectations and demands placed on her by the British wizarding community. Here, she could be anything, do anything; and that's precisely what she decided she was going to do.

* * *

 

The knock at the door was a surprise, but seeing Sherriff Mills' face on the other side of the door was an even bigger one. She looked dubiously at him, like she didn't expect him to be presentable or something. So you go off the deep end for a little while, and people expected you to just stay there. Nevermind that he hunted things that would turn her hair white. Finally, she huffed and stood aside, revealing a very excited Harriette hiding a few steps behind her.

 ** _“Harriette!”_** Bobby exclaimed, and she raced up the stairs to hug him. “You told me **_days,_** as in _**plural.**_ I could have met you at the airport.”

“And ruin the surprise, Unca?” Harriette teased. “Never!”

“Well, I have to be getting back to the station.” Sherriff Mills said, when Harriette released her hug on Bobby. “It was nice meeting you, Miss. Potter.”

“Same to you, Sherriff.” Harriette replied politely. When the woman was gone, Bobby pulled her inside.

“What were you trying to _**do,**_ scare me half to death with the _**Sherriff**_ _?”_ Bobby fussed, though there's no real authority to it, half-hearted as it was.

“Oh, wait till I tell you what I said to that woman. You'll **_love_** it.” Harriette said, gleefully, before yawning.

“You can tell me all about it after you've recovered from jet lag, and get some sleep.” Bobby said, fussing over her. “I'll make up the couch, and while you sleep, I'll fix you up a room.”

“Are you sure, Bobby?” She asked, with another yawn. “I can always sleep in my trunk. I have a pocket dimension in there, you know. No need to go through all that trouble for me.”

“Nonsense. Sleep. I got this.” Bobby said, and she shuffled off towards the couch.

It wasn't long till she was asleep, having pulled a blanket off of the top of the couch. He sighed as he made his way up the stairs to one of the guest rooms. He had a room to clean. As he began moving things about the house, Bobby vaguely wondered if they should go grocery shopping later. Maybe they could go out and eat first. Then again, he still hadn't figured out how to tell the boys about her. Maybe she could help him with that. His head hurt already just thinking about it, and just like that, the phone rang.

* * *

 

“Hey, Bobby, need your help with something.” Sam said, by way of a greeting.

“ _Good to hear you too, Sam. I'm doing great. Thanks for asking.”_ Bobby grumbled, over the phone, keeping his voice low.

“Sorry, Bobby.” Sam said, a bit guiltily.

“ _What do you want, Sam?”_ Bobby asked, and now Sam was wondering why he was keeping his voice so low like that, it was hard to hear him. _“I'm a little busy.”_

“Busy? What are you doing?” Sam asked, willing to let himself be sidetracked for a moment. They weren't getting any leads right now anyway.

“Tell me it's a woman.” Dean called over from the driver's seat.

“ _Never you mind what I'm doing.”_ Bobby snapped, though his voice never raised above a whisper. _“But if you really must know, I'm cleaning; and **yes,** there's a **woman** involved. Damn it, why'd I say that? Now she's gonna be pissed I said anything! Look what you made me do! I'm getting off of here, idjits.”_

“Dude, either Bobby's in trouble, or there really _**is**_ a woman at his place.” Sam said, realizing Bobby'd hung up on him. “He's _**cleaning**_ _,_ or says he is.”

“It's Bobby. He'll be fine.” Dean said, dismissing it a first.

“Alright, you could be right.” Sam stated, and Dean had a little smug smile till Sam spoke again. “But like you said; It's Bobby. When have you ever known him to _**clean**_?”

“Damn it. I hate it when you're right.” Dean grumbled, as he made to turn the impala around. “But if there's a woman, you owe me pie.”

* * *

 

Harriette's eyes shot open when subtle sounds began coming from the kitchen. Instincts that never really went away after the war, kicked in, and she slide soundlessly from her blankets and hid in a little alcove behind the door. She was thankful to have moved when the door opened, the moonlight shining near the couch she'd just been sleeping in. Two intruders moved almost as soundless as she could through the door, pointing guns around the corners they checked. Fear for her uncle Bobby coursed through her, and she decided it was move or die.

Knees and neck were always her first choice in places to hit when bringing down an assailant that was larger than her, and she went for both when she leaped up to tackle the last one that walked in, but this one was smart and called out to the other as he managed to get her in front of him and wrapped his arm around her neck. Instead of trying to give herself air, she elbowed him in the gut, and flipped him over her body and straight into an end table. Without even thinking about it, she grabbed the pistol in the floor, and swung around to clock the guy that the first had called to for help. This one had actually tried to shoot her, while she was still far enough away from him, but abandoned the idea when she got close enough and clocked him with the others gun. She swept his legs out from under him before he could realize she'd used the chance to steal his gun, and had both guns pointed at the assailants when the lights turned on.

“Damn it, Boys, what'd the hell are you doing breaking into my house?” Bobby shouted angrily, seeing that Harriette had pistols pointed at the boys while they scrambled to get out of the floor. “Harriette, are you alright? They didn't hurt you, did they?”

“Hurt _**her**_ _?_ _**She**_ was the one that hurt _**us!”**_ The shorter one grumbled.

“No, they didn't hurt me.” She said softly. “Who are these guys anyway? I take it you know these two idjits.”

“They're the Winchesters.” Bobby said, and she relaxed a little at least at knowing that he knew these people. “They're hunters, like me.”

“You two have a problem knocking, or calling ahead?” She asked, lowering the pistols slightly “Muggles have these things called phones. Bobby even has a room full of them. You could have called one of those.”

“Muggles?” The shorter one asks, suspicious of her,

“I think they're called No-Maj's here.” Harriette replied, not thinking anything of it. “You know, humans without magic.”

“Bobby, what the fuck?” The taller one exclaimed, instantly freaking out, calming instantly when Harriette raised the gun right back.

“You have a **_witch_** in your house, Bobby!” The shorter one shouted, angrily, stilling the moment that he saw the gun raising back up against him.

“Get one thing straight, you fucking wankers.” Harriette snapped. “I was _**born**_ with magic, as were my parents before me. I didn't make a demon deal for my magic, and I would appreciate it if you showed me just a bit of fucking respect.”

“Damn it, boys, back down!” Bobby shouted, looking between the two of them. “You two don't understand shit, wet behind the ear idjits that you still are. Now back off, and calm down.”

“Tell her to lower the guns first.” The taller one, hedged.

“Harriette, lower the guns, everything will be fine.” Bobby reasoned. “We can explain things to them. I'd been meaning to tell them about the wizarding world for a while now, but their father filled their heads with all magic is evil, and I never got to correct it.”

“I suppose I should give these back.” She admitted, blushing a bit, with an impish grin as she handed them back their weapons. She whirled around, happy that her uncle was walking towards them now. “What do you think we should-Oh!”

Bobby had rushed forward, and threw himself in front of her as a shot rang out.

“Bobby!” The two men exclaimed, in surprise and alarm.

 ** _“Unca!”_** She shouted, catching him before he could fall to the floor.

“Unca?” The taller dark hared on asked, looking to the shorter one.

“It's alright, Unca, I can fix this. I can.” She said, as she lowered him to the floor gently. “Just relax.”

“Don't worry, Harriette.” Bobby said, painfully chuckling. “This isn't exactly the first time I've been shot, certainly not the first time I've been shot by people I like. Bloody idjits.”

“Bobby, I-” The shorter one tried to apologize.

“Save it, Dean.” Bobby warned, his voice filled with pain.

Harriette floated him over to the couch she'd been sleeping on. He tried fussing at her, but she silenced him with a look. Her wand work was quick and efficient as she cut his shirt away, cleaned the wound. The bullet came out without any fuss, and he was lucky that it hadn't hit anything major. Before he could stop her, she made him drink a vial of dreamless sleep and essence of dittany as a precaution, and put a generous portion of it on the wound itself before coating the gauze in it, and taping it to the wound.

Tears streamed down her face as she ran diagnostic spells, healing spells, and making him as comfortable as she could. It didn't escape her notice that the 'boys' hadn't left yet. She refused to speak to them first, refused to acknowledge them now. As far as she was concerned, they were the assholes that shot her uncle, and they could take a hike. Once she got him patched up and comfortable, she gave another wave of her wand to make the papers move over to another table, setting her small cauldron and supplies out on the table, and within minutes she had a nice chicken soup going.

“Listen…Is he…Is Bobby going to be okay?” The taller one asked.

“Stupid fucking hunters, can't see past the end of the bloody barrel, can you?” She grumbled, not looking up at them. “You were going to shoot me in the back. I had explained what I was, that I wasn't what you're use to, and you were still going to shoot me in the back. You could have just stopped and listened, heard what he had to say, but you couldn't see past your own bullshit, and now my Unca's been shot by one of you. Only _**now**_ are you sorry, and it isn't even because you tried to shoot me, it's because you actually hit him. Had you hit me, you wouldn't be feeling sorry like you are now.”

* * *

 

Dean took a look at her as she worked on whatever it was that was smelling good on the coffee table. He'd never met a witch that hadn't sold her soul for the power, so of course he'd shot at her when her back was turned, but now the guilt was eating at him. Bobby had been willing to protect this woman, and she kept calling him Unca like she was…she was his…oh shit. He looked over to Sam, who must have had the same thought Dean had had, and now the both of them were looking at her more closely.

There wasn't a whole lot of family resemblance, at least not at first glance but there were little things. The longer he looked at her, the more he noticed, but there was something bugging him. If this really was his niece, why had Bobby never talked about her? Where'd she been all this time? From her accent, she certainly sounded like she was far away from home.

“I know it sounds hollow, especially considering I'm the one who tried to shoot you, but I am sorry.” He stated. She dutifully refused to acknowledge that he had spoken, but that was fine; he deserved that. “Bobby's like family to us, and we should have listened to him when he tried to tell us you were okay. It wouldn't be the first time someone or something we thought was bad turned out to be good.”

She looked across the table at him, and suddenly he was struck by the most brilliant green eyes he'd ever seen. Even though she was angry at him, those eyes looked like they held the promise of something greater than he was. She didn't answer for a little bit, staring at him as she judged him. It was strange, just sitting there staring at each other. The way she looked at him, he couldn't help but wonder if she could see into his soul.

“Alright, I believe you.” She said, as she broke eye contact with him. He wondered if there was magic that let someone see inside of a mind, because it felt like he'd just been released from some kind of hold.

“What did Bobby say your name was? Harriette?” Sam asked, looking between the two of them.

“Yes. My name is Harriette Potter, but everyone calls me Harry.” She replied, looking over at him. “…Well, everyone but Unca.”

“Harriette.” Dean said, testing the name out, before sitting up quickly as something dawned on him. “Dude!”

“What, Dean?” Sam asked, looking annoyed.

Dean couldn't help but grin then, and exclaimed. “You owe me pie!”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

“You're really going to worry about that _**now?**_ ” Sam asked, incredulously. “You just shot Bobby!”

“Yes, and when he wakes up, I imagine he'll want pie.” Dean argued logically, for him anyway. It sounded like a great plan to him.

“Actually, he'll want a beer, not pie.” Harriette countered, though Dean refused to admit that she was more than likely right. “What he'll _**have**_ is this chicken soup, and neither of you have done _**anything**_ nice enough to warrant pie.”

“We could help clean the house. It's the least we could do after everything that just happened. Bobby said something about clearing out a room anyway, I think. You should have somewhere to sleep in all this mess.” Sam suggested. Dean looked mutinous at this, so Sam stopped him with a glare. “Do you want pie?”

“ _ **Yes.”**_ Dean admitted, mulishly. “But we could just go pick up pie from somewhere. Why do we have to clean?”

“I suppose you _**could**_ pick up any ol' pie from the store, and it will be bland, and normal, and you'd never know what a sad excuse for pie you'd be eating, because _**you**_ will never have had the brilliance that is magically baked pie.” Harriette threw out there, and Sam watched as the wheels in Dean's mind began to turn.

“Magic _**pie?**_ ” Dean asked, with only barely disguised curiosity.

“Magic _**pie**_ _._ ” Harriette confirmed with a nod.

“Fuck it. Well, now we _**have**_ to clean Bobby's house.” Dean declared, as he stood up and headed up the stairs to hopefully find wherever Bobby had started cleaning. “There's magic pie involved.”

“Damn it, Dean!” Sam scolded, but he didn't really have his heart in it, as he followed him.

* * *

 

“You know…” She hears Bobby gruffly from the couch. “You're bribing them, mainly Dean, to clean out a room for you, because he shot me.”

“Technically, I didn't even suggest it, but yes. Yes, I am.” She replied. He couldn't see it, but he could tell she was smiling even though he couldn't see it. “Serves them right too. They shot you! Never mind that they interrupted my sleep.”

“And I can't have beer?” Bobby confirmed, to which she nodded. “What am I stuck with?”

“This chicken soup.” Harry said, pointing to the cauldron on the coffee table. “How long do you think I should let them suffer?”

“Till I finish that soup.” Bobby chuckles, as she helps him sit up. “I'd like to enjoy this in peace, if you don't mind. It's been quite some time since I've had cooking like this.”

“You shouldn't have said that.” Harriette replied impishly. “Now you'll have me cooking for you all the time.”

“Guess that means you're stuck with me, because if you move out, I'm camping out at your place.” Bobby declared, before beginning to dig into the soup.

* * *

 

Meanwhile…

 

“What _**was**_ that down there? What did she do to you?” Sam asked, as they began clearing out the room.

“Dude, I don't know. Felt like she was looking in my mind.” Dean replied, with a frown as he thought about it. “Think she can do that?”

“Probably? Who knows?” Sam shrugged, as they continued working. “We've never _**met**_ a natural witch before. Bobby talked like there was a whole _**world**_ of them.”

“Never mind that. What _ **I**_ want to know is how on earth does Bobby have a niece that hot?” Dean replied with a smirk, but then stopped upon seeing the look on Sam's face. “What? She's hot, and she's willing to make me pie. I don't see a problem here.”

“You don't?…You _**just**_ shot Bobby.” Sam pointed out. “Don't you think it's a _**little**_ odd that she would bribe you with pie after that?”

“Damn it, Sam. Why do you have to start making sense now?” Dean groaned, shaking his head slightly. “I was looking forward to magic pie.”

* * *

 

The boys finally came down the stairs about the time that Harriette had finished making the pie, the smell of it probably being what pulled them downstairs in the first place. Bobby rolled his eyes at them, seeing that they both had that suspicious look to them again. Harriette sighed upon seeing this as well, and turned her attention back to the oven. Both boys ignored the glare he sent them, and kept watching her as if she was going to curse them. If they kept that up, she probably _**would**_ curse them.

Breakfast ( _it was technically breakfast…right?_ ) was an awkward affair as both Harriette and Bobby tried not to notice how neither of the boys ate anything. Harriette didn't comment on it, or acknowledge it in any way. Bobby, on the other hand, couldn't wait till Harriette went up to her room so he could lay into these two for their bullshit. He wasn't asking for much, just a little fucking respect from the people who shot him for the niece they'd not known he had. He didn't have to wait long, knowing that jet lag was still going to mess with her for a bit.

“I'll wash the dishes later, okay, Unca?” Harriette promised, looking even more tired than before.

“You go on ahead, Harriette. I'm more than okay now, thanks to you, and I can handle these two idjits.” Bobby said, reassuring her. “Rest up from the jet lag, and we'll go pick up a couple things when you wake up maybe; swap stories over some of that high quality beer like we talked about.”

She smiled, and nodded sleepily, before making her way up the stairs.

“What the _**hell's**_ wrong with you two?” He snapped, keeping his voice low, when he was sure she was far enough away.

“She's a _**witch,**_ Bobby. How are we supposed to trust her?” Sam demanded. “She looked in his mind. Who _**knows**_ what she's seen? What other Hunters have been compromised because of that?”

“For once, Sam, you have no idea what you're talking about.” Bobby stated, glaring at him. “I think it's high time I told you both about the wizarding world. Now, you two are going to sit there. You're going to listen to me, and when I'm through, _**then**_ you can ask questions. Got that?”

Both boys nodded.

“Alright then. First off, Natural witches are different than what you've seen. They're blood born, generational. Different gifts run in different families, and some are more powerful than others, but none of them need a demon for their power. Not that there hasn't been one or two to go bad, and then seek out a demon for _**more**_ power than what they already have, but that's another conversation.” Bobby started out. “Long before King Arthur's time, those with natural magic lived among those without magic in relative peace. They were healers, herbalists, court advisers, warriors. The burning times changed that, and the two worlds were separated for each other's safety. The wizarding world was nearly wiped out then, but it recovered, and they set up the statute of secrecy; keeps them from us, and us from them, with exceptions. Hunters are an exception, and you can bet your ass the President knows about them. Anyone high enough to lead a country knows, because they _**have**_ to know.

Hunters know because sometimes things get out of hand, and things slip through the wizarding society. It's part of the reason why we have some of the monsters we do. There are non-magic and magic types for just about every kind of creature you can think of. The difference for the magical types is they have a magical core that helps ground them, keeps them stable so they can learn to be what they are. Non-magic types don't have that, like shapeshifters. The wizarding equivalent of a shapeshifter is called a Metamorphmagus, and they don't shed their skin, they certainly don't live in dark spaces, and are probably paying on their mortgage right now, living completely normal lives.

The witches and warlocks we deal with as hunters came out of sort of the same concept. When everything died down after the burning times, humans began looking to reconnect with magic, only they couldn't find it anymore. Those belonging to magic had hidden too well by then. Demons saw an opportunity, and took it. Now, the wizarding world is different depending on what part of the world you're in. They have their own government, which is why our leaders are in the know.

Hunters act as go betweens; those that are employed by Gringott's, at any rate. In some ways they're more advanced than us. In others, we've surpassed them, because we had to get inventive due to the lack of magic. Sometimes there are cases of a child being born with magic in a family it's never presented in before, and sometimes there are cases of children being born without magic in a family that's always possessed it. There's so much you don't know, boys, and I'm sorry I let it get this far before telling you the truth.”

“She calls you Unca. So what does that mean for you, and magic?” Sam asked, intrigued.

“I'm what they would call a squib, a child born without magic in a magical family.” Bobby explained. “My name was Bobby Potter, and I was the first born son, but because I had no magic of my own, there was a lot I couldn't _**do**_ in the wizarding world. So they did what they thought was best, and got me adopted by the Singers, and I moved to the states. I've been here ever since. Harriette found out about me while she was at school. One of her professors had given her a photo album, and she saw my picture in the wedding photos. One of the few times I was able to go back there was when I got to watch my little brother get married to the witch of his dreams. She'd been keeping regular contact with me too, till the war broke out again. The other day was the first time I'd heard from her in years. It's why you two have never met her till now.”

“You're asking us to accept a lot here, Bobby.” Dean pointed out.

“Yeah, well, you're the idjit who shot me, so I think I have a right to that.” Bobby shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Think you two can handle being here, and _**not**_ trying to kill her?”

“Yep. Now that we've established she isn't trying to murder us because we shot you, I'm going for pie.” Dean insisted, unable to resist any longer.

“When she's up for it, I'd like to talk to her about the wizarding world.” Sam replied, looking like he was already planning his own archive. “What else don't we know?”

“If I'm going to learn things, can you at least wait till I've gotten pie?” Dean groaned, grumbling underneath his breath. “Bitch.”

“I heard that, Jerk! Now get your ass in here, so Bobby will tell us more things…Yes, over pie.” Sam shot back, without missing a beat, then looks to Bobby. “We may have to hold an intervention, or something. At this point, I think he's willing to _**marry**_ pie.”

“Mmm…Ov ma God. Sam, you haff ta ry iss.” Deal said, around a mouth full of pie as he walked back into the room. “It's da mof beaufil fing I've ever ea'n. I mi cry.”

“Yeah, I think we need to hold that intervention.” Bobby said, completely deadpan, as the two looked at Dean; who, to his credit, realized how weird he looked talking with a mouthful of pie, and awkwardly swallowed the bite down.

“What?” He asked, looking as clueless as possible.

* * *

 

“You are _**not**_ drinking beer for breakfast!” Harriette grumbles, taking the bottle out of Bobby's hand before he can take a drink, on her way to the kitchen. “Merlin's saggy tits, I thought you knew better, Bobby!”

Sam and Dean look like they've never seen anything more wonderful than what's going on in this moment. She imagined that Bobby had helped raise these guys, so in a way he was like their father, or a strict uncle. Any time they had gone against him, or fussed over him about his health, would probably have been met with stonewalling. He couldn't do that with her, but not because she had magic and he didn't. It was just that she was just as stubborn as he was, if not more so. The part about having magic didn't hurt though.

“That means you too, Winchesters!” She adds, using her wand to summon the beers they'd been holding, and now it's Bobby's turn to laugh at them.

“Well, then why don't you bibbity bop us some food, woman?” Dean grumbled, clearly annoyed at having his breakfast stolen from him. Bobby laughs outright when Harriette transfigures Dean into a pumpkin.

“Bibbity bop _**that**_ , Bitch.” Harriette snorts, and then continues on into the kitchen. “I have some supplies in my trunk, but then we _**really**_ need to go to grocery shopping. After that, I'm half tempted to reorganize your books. They're _**everywhere.**_ Hermione would be appalled. You know, maybe I should Floo call her, see if she can help me.”

“Don't go messing with my books, Harriette.” Bobby half whines, looking a bit panicked at the thought of her messing with his hard to understand system he claimed to have. “I know where everything is.”

“Sure you do, Unca.” She replies, chuckling at him,

“Will he be alright?” Sam asks, eyeing the pumpkin worriedly.

“He'll be fine. Might stay like that long enough for me to get breakfast up and going though.” She replied, before looking over at him mischievously. “Why? Thinking about decorating?…( _Now she's looking at the pumpkin contemplatively_ )…you're right. He's not nearly festive enough.”

With another flick of her wand, the pumpkin that was Dean had a sharpie drawing a festive pumpkin face on it. She went back to making breakfast. When the picture is done, the sharpie drops to the coffee table. Sam takes this opportunity to take as many pictures as he can, backing them up on various memory files, to have as blackmail later. No one else will know what they mean, but Dean will, and that makes any shit he's going to get for this oh so worth it.

* * *

 

Sam had never laughed harder in his laugh than the moment Dean returned to human form. The man looked absolutely bewildered at what had just happened to him, and looked at his own hands to make sure they were real again. Dean looked like he couldn't decide if he wanted to be offended or impressed at what she'd done. Bobby shook quietly, laughing at Dean as well. Only when Harriette walked into the living room, did they quiet down a bit, each with different reactions to the floating plates of food following after her.

“So, what type of magic was that before?” Sam asked, hiding his laughter with a cough.

“Transfiguration.” She replied, with a mischievous grin. “It's not meant to be permanent, but it _**can**_ come in handy. Would you like to see me turn him into a tea cup next? I got rather good at the intricate designs for them.”

“Don't even think about it.” Dean said, the sharpie design moving as he spoke. He begrudgingly took the plate in front of him out of the air, and began eating his breakfast.

“Are you going to start being more respectful towards me?” Harriette asked, arching an eyebrow at him. He looked mulish for a moment, before she added. “Before you answer, you should know, I can cast that spell silently and wandlessly too.”

“No more going through my mind either.” Dean countered, after a bite.

“I could teach you how to block that sort of thing. It's dead useful against other magicals, telepathic creatures, demons, all sorts really.” Harriette offered, surprising the boys. Bobby just shook his head at their transparency. “However, learning would involve you having to deal with me going through your mind.”

“The only way to protect your mind, your thoughts, and your emotions, is to have someone constantly trying to get at them.” Bobby explained. “Muggles can learn it too.”

“He already has a good foundation to start with.” Harriette remarked, surprising them further, after she'd eaten a bit. “Have you been making them go through the exercises without their knowing, Unca? How very Slytherin of you.”

“Bobby?” Sam asked, in wonder.

“I did what I could to keep you boys safe.” Bobby admitted. “It's not my fault you stopped the excercises, and that demons can turn your brain to swiss cheese.”

“How did you…” Dean asked, trailing off.

“I can't do magic, idjit, but I can defend against it if I need to. Some of these books have _**uses,**_ you know.” Bobby huffed. “I've been slowly working with the two of you on it for years. The breathing excercises, focusing in a hunt? You two need to know these things, and you're too hot headed as it is. Demons trick you into revealing your emotions all the time. It's good to know I got something right though. If she says you have a good foundation, you do.”

“If that's true, why were you still able to go through my mind like that?” Dean asked, glaring at Harriette.

“A foundation isn't the whole house, you know. Amazingly, it comes with walls too, and I hear a roof is quite nice as well.” She said, with a snort. “After having one of the darkest wizards in history rummage through my mind for years, I got good at blocking out attacks on my mind from just about everyone, and how to go looking through someone else's. You'd be hard pressed to find someone who could block me, but it can be done. I can teach you, but like I said, you'd have to consent to the rummaging.”

* * *

 

“What's a git?” Dean asks, randomly, as they watch Harriette go through the grocery store like it's Christmas.

“You are.” She replied, without missing a beat, even though he had not been asking her. Sam and Bobby look very interested the canned foods section they were in. “I'm pretty sure that if you looked up the word, it would have your picture in the dictionary for it.”

It had been a week before she finally managed to pull Bobby and the Winchester men to the grocery store. She had each of them get a buggy and follow her about the store too. It was quite the sight for the locals of Sioux Falls, to be sure. Some were not subtle as they stared at the men following the strange woman. To be fair, they didn't look too happy about it at first, but she'd won them over with promises of more of her home cooking.

They had been treated to a wide variety of dishes that week, and then came the dreaded day where she had no more food to make things for them. So, it was back to whatever had been in the fridge before that. With each day things seemed to grow more dim in the food department, and Harriette had wondered how long they would hold out on the dreaded grocery shopping trip she'd first suggested. They'd made it an impressive three days before caving. Now, finally at the store, they were cracking jokes with each other, and the experience wasn't quite as bad as they'd thought.

“Miss Potter?” The voice cut through the muffled laughter, as Sherriff Mills walked up to them. “How are you finding everything so far? Well, I hope?”

“It's been quite the welcome, Sheriff.” Harriette agreed, pleasantly. The Winchesters were on the defensive, though Bobby was more resigned. “Everyone here has been amazing. You should stop by Bobby's place some time. I'm staying there while I look for a place of my own. How about Thursday? I'm making sheppard's pie.”

“I don't know if that's-” Mills began, looking startled.

“It's fine.” Bobby insisted, dismissively. “Around six?”

Sheriff Mills looked from herto Bobby and back again. “Should I bring anything?”

“That won't be necessary.” Harriette said, joyfully, waving her hand as if to clear the air. “Your company will be enough.” When Sheriff Mills left, Harriette whirled around to face them, with wide eyes. “I can't believe I just did that! It's not even my house!”

Sam started laughing, but took a while to calm down and explain.

“Now we really will have to do something about all your books.” He said, snickering when Bobby groaned.

* * *

 

They'd just gotten through putting all of Bobby's books in one of the upper rooms. It was something that could have been taken care of within seconds with Harriette's magic, but she'd admonished them with 'How will you ever learn?' Bobby grumbled most of all, but it was halfhearted, so Harriette ignored it easily. When they got done, they were surprised to find that she'd gone on a beer run, and came back with an arsenal of alcohol. It was a welcome surprise at the end of the day.

“What's all this then?” Sam asked, eyeing the alcohol with slight suspicion.

“I have questions, you all have questions. I figured we could make a game of it.” Harriette explained, then grinned conspiratorially. “There's things I haven't even told Bobby.”

“You sure about this, Harriette?” Bobby asked, seeing the plethora of alcohol now.

“My godfather is Sirius Black, and my alcohol tolerance is pretty legendary.” She replied, though he looked dubious about it, so she had to explain more. “I managed to drink a werewolf under the table. Remus may never live that down. Tonks is still laughing her ass off about it, and Sirius teases him every chance he can get.”

“I'm in.” Sam agreed. “I have a lot of questions I'm hoping you can answer about the wizarding world.”

“I can't speak much for the wizarding world here, but I could try to explain a bit from home. Rules are though, if you ask a question, you have to be prepared to answer one.” Harriette explained. Sam contemplated this for a moment, and then nodded. She looked relieved at that. “I even bought some wizarding alcohol, if you think you can handle it, There's some in here I haven't even tried.”

“Alright, witch.” Dean said, as he sat down and grabbed a beer. He nodded to her. “Let's see what you got.”

* * *

 

Several hours later, Bobby is passed out on the couch. Sam is curled up on the Lazy Boy with a blanket. Dean and Harriette haven't stopped firing questions at each other since the other two passed out. He's learning more about the Wizarding world than Sam at the moment. However, with dawn approaching, and no one closer to passing out than they were before, Dean decides to call it.

“We've asked each other every question under the sun, but why haven't you asked about parents?” He asked, and watched as she looked away. That was it then, the one story she hadn't wanted to tell. “It's not like I've got a white picket fence story to tell either, you know.”

“I didn't want to ask a question I don't have any experience in.” She replied, before taking her shot. “My parents died because of that dark wizard I spoke of before, and I was sent to live with relatives that hated me. They made sure I knew it too, punished me for my magic, and kept me in the dark about it at the same time. _None of that unnaturalness, Girl. Nothing Freakish neither. No one's coming to save you. No one loves you enough. They abandoned you, and now we have to put up with you. If it wasn't for us, you'd be out on the street, or in some orphanage. Be grateful for that room under the stairs. It's better than you deserve, Freak_.” She paused, realizing that she had perhaps said more than she'd meant to say, and put the glass back down. “I think that's enough for me. Talking like that leads to bad times, and I'd like to end tonight pleasantly. Thank you, Dean Winchester, for the stories.”

She was almost up the stairs, before he managed to say. “You haven't asked me a question yet.”

“Don't worry, Winchester.” She nods to him. “I will.”

 


	3. The Dinner Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It goes about as well as you expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient with me about the slow updates!

Chapter 3

 

Sheriff Jody Mills hadn’t been prepared for what dinner with Miss Potter would be like. She had come alone, not really sure if the invitation had extended to her husband or not, and she’d not wanted to assume. Bobby opened the door when she got there, a bit hesitant but not rude in any way. He actually looked surprised that she’d shown up at all. She couldn’t help but look around at how much the house had changed since Miss Potter’s injection into Bobby’s life, but soon the smells of delicious food distracted her from her natural investigative instincts.

“Sheriff Mills, it’s good to see you!” Miss Potter stated, upon seeing her. “You’re just in time. Supper’s almost ready.”

“It smells wonderful.” Jody admitted, kindly.

“Anything exciting happen this week?” Miss Potter asked, as she greeted her.

“Nothing much.” Jody lied, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

Miss Potter burst out laughing. “Liar! The authorities where I’m from were always busy, even in peace times, but I’m glad you’re not letting the stress of it get to you.”

“It comes with the job.” Jody stated, with a shrug. “So, what did you do before you moved, Miss Potter?”

“I suppose you could say I was a soldier.” Miss Potter replied, though something changed about her look, like she was haunted. “I fought in a war, small thing in comparison to the world, but it devastated the area. It’s amazing what some people will do for power.”

“Would I have seen it on the news?” Jody asked, out of curiosity.

“Yes, but you wouldn’t have known it for what it was. The government reported it as gas leaks, terrorist attacks, things of that nature.” Miss Potter explained, as they moved into the surprisingly well decorated dining room. “They didn’t want to start a panic, and I suppose I can’t blame them. It lasted for so long though, I’m surprised they didn’t just admit what was going on, but I suppose it was too late by then. I’m glad it’s over now.”

“Any ideas on what you want to do here?” Jody asked. At this point the Winchester boys were bringing in the shepherds pie, and setting the table; She could barely suppress the surprise at how well behaved they were being, as opposed to the scowls they always gave her.

“I’ve been looking at houses mostly. Merlin knows it’s not like I actually have to work, but I can’t see myself sitting still for long.” Miss Potter replied, in a jovial manner. Merlin? “Bobby’s already afraid I’ll rearrange all his books.”

“I _**do**_ have a filing system, you know.” Bobby grumbled, but it had no bite to it.

“Sure you do, Unca.” Miss Potter teased.

Dinner progressed rather well, with Miss Potter and Jody bantering about and Bobby and the boys adding the odd commentary. It was certainly something she had not thought would go as smoothly as it was. She learned that Harriette Potter was very good with vague answers that seemed like they were more filling than they were. Any time Jody tried to press for specifics, without being to obvious about it, Miss Potter avoided her questions with the ease of a politician. Even hardened criminals didn’t evade that good, and she’d know.

Before Jody could comment on it, there was a noise outside. A door slammed, and John Winchester come storming into the house. He stopped in shock silence when he saw Bobby and everyone at the dinner table staring at him. One look from John, and Bobby excused himself from the table. Whatever was happening, it was serious. Jody had never liked John Winchester, not that she knew him well, but she wasn’t about to say something like that to his sons.

“Can you tell what they’re saying from here, Harriette?” Sam asked, making sure to whisper. “Dad looked pretty intense.”

“Give me a minute.” The young woman replied, putting something that looked like a blue tooth device in her ear. “He’s on a job…looking for something…might not be back for a while…Bobby’s trying to talk him into staying…He hasn’t met me yet…With you two here, he might listen…He’s agreed…”

She took off the blue tooth device, put it in her pocket, and tucked back into her food just before the two men walked back into the dining room. Jody has to admit to herself that she’s a little impressed by the whole ordeal.

* * *

 

From first impressions, John Winchester was a caveman. He was gruff, looking at Harriette with an all too obvious stare, already suspicious of her. She understood that. Bobby had never talked about having other family, so it was natural that he would be suspicious. Of course this had to happen now though, when she was trying to make a good impression on Sheriff Mills. The man had the table manners of a wild boar, plopping into the seat across from her, as if to intimidate her.

Granted he had a right to be a bit more familiar in this home than she did, at least she felt that way, but that was no reason to ignore their other guest, or to act like a heathen. He’d actually stared at her hard for a moment, clearly expecting her to cave and look away, but she had been stared down by the likes of Snape, Malfoy, Voldemort; and more intimidatingly, McGonagall. This man didn’t hold a candle to them. When all she did was arch her eyebrow in a very Snape like manner, which she was secretly proud to have managed to copy, he just grunted and set about plating his food.

Jody took everything in stride, obviously having met the Winchester patriarch before. Neither seemed to be on good terms with the other, though thankfully they were at least civil. Harriette was surprised that the evening went as well as it did, nowhere near as awkward as it could have been. Merlin’s beard, but the man wasn’t subtle! How on earth was he able to be a Hunter if he had the subtlety of a raging bull in a china shop? Jody left not long after supper had ended, sensing the chat that was about to follow, but promised that they would get together for dinner again soon. Harriette could only hope that it wouldn’t go as badly as the woman seemed to think it would.

“Just exactly who are you?” John asked, his steel glare returning.

“Dad.” Sam warned, but John’s glare turned to him, and he was silent if not fuming at his father.

“I believe you know who I am, Mr. Winchester.” Harriette replied. “I did just introduce myself, you know.”

“Bobby has never mentioned a niece.” John commented.

“Bobby thought I was _**dead**_.” She pointed out, not willing to be cowed by him. “I take it you spend time talking about the dead then?”

Dean snorted. “Considering our job, you might want to rethink that question, Harriette.”

She snorted in amusement.

“You know what we do? You lot told her?!” John demanded, angrily.

“ _ **They**_ didn’t tell me anything. Bobby is my Unca. Of _**course**_ I knew.” Harriette quipped, scolding him as if he were a small child. “I’m _**more**_ surprised that you’ve let your youngest son believe himself a freak, instead of teaching him how to harness the power he possesses. It wasn’t because of the demon deal, but then again, you’ve always been such a possessive bastard that you would have never noticed. No wonder the demon wants him.”

Anger flashes across his face, before he made to leap from the chair he was in, only to discover he was stuck to it. It was like watching Ron get angry, how red the man’s face got, how he cursed and sputtered in the hopes that it would anger her into making a mistake. Bobby just sighed in disappointment. This hadn’t been the way he’d wanted to go about this, and she knew it. John Winchester had been his friend for many years, but she knew that Bobby’d held little hope of this actually going well.

“Reveal yourself, Demon!” John demanded, struggling to get out of the magic he was bound in. “What have you done to them?!”

“I’m not a demon, Mr. Winchester. I’m a natural witch, not one bound to a demon’s deal.” She explained calmly, wondering if this is what she looked like when she was younger and angry. “I can teach your son how to control his gift, how to guard his mind against demons. What you’re doing isn’t helping him, either of them.”

“Don’t you go near my sons?! Take me instead!” John demanded and pleaded all at once. “I’ll make a deal!”

“That’s what got you into this mess, Mr. Winchester.” Harriette scolded. “I could teach you how to guard your mind too, help protect you against demons, if you’ll allow it. You need to know, being a Hunter and all.”

“I don’t want help from you!” John shouted. “Stay away from my sons, bitch!”

“Now you listen here, John Winchester.” Harriette ordered, as her magic sparked around her. She could swear it felt a few degrees cooler in the room, and her hair moved with the power of her magic. “I have been nothing but mannerly to you, and I expect you to do the same. I am not someone you can easily intimidate into doing your bidding. I am a witch, a warrior, and a saviour of this world. I will not have you being a disrespecting dog to me or my family. Take a good look at your life, John Winchester, and realize what you have, before they leave you too.”

She calmed down and released the spell on him, but that had proved to be a mistake. Without hesitation, he’d flipped the table and charged at her. Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in her abdomen. She looked down to see a knife in her gut, his hand on the hilt. It was surreal to see, and she looked up at him, only to see the shock and confusion on his face.

“What is it with you Winchesters and trying to kill me?” She asked, weakly, right before her knees gave out on her.

* * *

 

“ _ **Harriette!!!**_ ” Sam, Dean, and Bobby all shout at once.

It’s Sam that stops her from hitting the floor. It’s Dean that punches the fuck out of his father for pulling the same mistake that he had. It’s Bobby that rushes back into the room with the things she had used to heal him the first time. Harriette is already cold, shaking with the shock of what had just happened, her head leaning against the crook of Sam’s neck he lowers her to the floor for them to work on her. There’s no time to take her to the hospital, and they didn’t know if they could use normal means to heal her.

“Harriette, come on, stay awake.” Dean pleaded, seeing that what they were doing wasn’t working. Even if they had magic, they didn’t know how to use it. “Tell us what to do.”

“Draco Malfoy…” She managed to get out. “I need…Draco Malfoy…He’s…a healer…He…can help.”

* * *

 

It was nearly five o’clock in the morning when the wards rang with warning that someone had breached them, specifically the wards on the Floo. Draco was racing to the Floo when he ran into his father. Both just gave a nod to the other, and continued on. Whoever it was that had breached the wards was powerful indeed, and they would need to be careful. Whatever they were expecting, they were still surprised to see a man standing in front of the fire place looking rather confused and covered in blood.

“Are either of you Draco Malfoy?” He asked, hopeful as he looked between them. “Please, it’s urgent!”

“I’m Draco Malfoy.” Draco stated, ignoring his father’s quiet insistence that they could have lied to gain information before running headlong into danger. They weren’t Gryffindors. “I take it the blood’s not yours?”

“Please, you have to come with me. She said you could help her.” The man insisted, urgently. “She said you’re a healer.”

“I am.” Draco nodded, making to grab his coat and bag. He could worry about appropriate attire later. “What happened?”

“My father stabbed her because she’s a witch.” The man explained, now looking exceedingly guilty. Both men had bristled at that. Granted, his father had been a death eater, so he wasn’t one to be able to afford to judge. “She tried to explain she was a natural witch, not one that sold their soul to a demon to get their power, but Dad, he…I don’t know what kind of knife he used, but it isn’t just a knife. She’s cold already, like it’s draining her life through it.”

“It very well could be.” Draco replied, already getting a handful of floo powder for the trip. “I’ll need to know the address for where we’re going.”

“Bobby Singer’s Salvage Yard, South Dakota.” The man stated, in earnest.

“Merlin’s Balls, who would need me in South Dakota?” Draco asked, in disbelief.

“Harriette Potter.” The man explained.

 

“Where is she?” He asked, as soon as they’d stepped through the floo.

The man lead him into the dining area, where Potter was being held in the floor by a taller gentleman with dark hair. An older gentleman was kneeling near her, trying to keep her awake by talking to her, but it was clear it was taking all of her effort to remain so. Seeing Draco, the man moved to allow him access. There was so much blood, but stomach wounds were like that, and Draco was a healer before all else now. After rolling up his sleeves, he got to work setting out the things he would need to even begin thinking about trying to figure out what kind of knife that was before he could get a look at the wound, not noticing if anyone stared at his mark; there would be time enough for that later.

“Potter, I say this with all the respect in the world, but you look like shite.” Draco commented, causing her to give a wistful smile.

“You should…see the other guy.” She replied, with a smirk, but Merlin her voice was a low wisp. Draco humoured her, looking towards where she’d weakly pointed, to a man that had been knocked out cold.

“Nice work, Potter. I didn’t know you had it in you. Granger will be impressed. My nose still twinges when I see her.” Draco commended, but she shook her head and pointed to the man who’d brought him here.

“That was…Dean.” She corrected him, weakly.

“Oh? And how did you meet this Dean?” He asked, trying to keep her busy. The tests he’d been running had come back with the answer, and he had to keep her talking or else this would never work.

“He…and his brother…broke in to…Unca’s house.” She replied, with a cheeky grin, her voice so weak now he could barely hear it. “Tried…to shoot me…Unca saved me…took the bullet…for me…”

“Does _**everyone**_ you meet try to kill you, Potter?” Draco asked, trying to keep the humour light. While the demon killing knife was great for Hunters to use, it was bad for magical folk to be stabbed with, and he wasn’t even sure how the life hadn’t been drained out of her already. It was going to take one of those miracles from the God muggles prayed to for this to work, he just knew it, to keep her distracted long enough. “Alright, Potter, here’s the deal. That knife has to come out. You can’t bleed all over their dining room floor. Most unbecoming of a Lady, you know.”

“I’ll send them…a fruit basket.” She winced, even as she smiled weakly at him. “Everyone…loves those.”

“You three will have to distract her now.” Draco insisted, quietly, looking to the three men who’d gathered around her. “Keep her talking while I get this knife out, and then I can begin healing the wound. I had to contain the curse on the blade first, but it won’t hold for long, in order to even be able to remove it. It would have continued draining her life even outside of her body if I had not.”

“You know, Harriette, we’ve really got to stop meeting like this.” Dean insisted, taking a leaf out of his book and trying to keep his tone light.

“Got to let…Sam…have his shot.” She chuckled, but it came out as little puffs of air, her head gently resting to the one that held her. He must be Sam.

“I’ll think of something good, okay?” Sam replied, humouring her.

“Don’t be…mad at your dad.” She insisted, barely keeping her eyes open now. “He loves you both.”

“I’ll reserve that right, if you don’t mind.” Sam said, shaking his head. “Dean too. Dad’s always been stubborn, but he’s always heard us out, even when I didn’t like his decisions afterwords. He still…”

“The knife could have…cursed him too…just different…Every knife…needs a wielder.” She protested weakly. “Besides…Psychic boy…you’re stubborn too.”

“Awe, come on. I’m not stubborn.” Sam whined, only to meet her gaze with her raising an eyebrow at him. “Alright, I’m a little stubborn…just a little though. Dean too, more so than me, maybe even as much as dad.”

“Bitch.” Dean snorted.

“Jerk.” Sam shot back, before the two descended into chuckling.

“So, Harriette, figured out a question yet?” Dean asked. “You still owe me one from that drinking game……Harriette?…Harriette!”

“Relax, she’s fine.” Draco stated, interrupting in the hopes to calm the man down. The man’s magical core was all over the place. “I had to put her in a magically induced coma to heal. She’ll need a few blood replenishers, and I’ll have to stay to monitor her condition for a few hours. She may be the Master of Death, but she has a habit of nearly dying a lot……aaaaand she hasn’t mentioned that. Shite! She’s going to kill me when she wakes up.”

“Dean, take her up to her room.” The gentleman, he’d first seen kneeling in front of her, said. “Sam and I will clean up.”

Dean just nodded, and Sam transferred Potter to his arms. He was out of the room with her, making sure to carry her gently. A quick tergio and scourgify later, the table set to right, and Sam and the other gentleman didn’t have to worry about cleaning up the blood left behind from Potter’s wound. He wasn’t sure if he should breach the subject of the man knocked out in the floor. The knife, however, was something worth noting.

“Where did he get this?” Draco asked, placing the knife on the table. “I ask, because it’s a dark artifact, one that was taken from my family vaults over a century ago. Before you ask, I know this because I can feel the family magic in it.”

“What I want to know is why my niece is friends with a Death Eater.” The older gentleman commented.

“She’s friends with a group of them actually. Let’s get one thing straight. I made a choice between becoming a Death Eater, or watching my parents be murdered in front of me.” Draco growled. “I may not have wanted to be a Death Eater, but I was still a shite person. Your niece saved me from that, pulled me out of a room full of Fiendfyre, defended me when I went to trial for letting Death Eaters into the school and attempting to kill the Headmaster, defended me to the school when I had to go back as part of my sentence. Without her backing me up, I never would have gotten into the Healer’s program at St. Mungo’s. So yes, she’s my friend. You wouldn’t be the first, or the last, to have a problem with that.”

“Relax, kid.” The gentleman insisted, much more relaxed now. “I don’t get to do the whole protective Uncle thing often. My name’s Bobby Singer, by the way.”

“Really could have used you when she was living with those shite muggles she called family. From what she told me, they had her living in a cupboard under the stairs like it was her bedroom or something.” Draco noted. Bobby and Sam just looked at him in confusion. “Merlin’s balls, she really is going to kill me.”

“Dad found the knife a few years back. A Hunter in Ohio had it, I think.” Sam replied, answering his earlier question. “You’re really a wizard?”

“So are you.” Draco pointed out. “Untrained, but you are a wizard. How in Circe’s saggy tits did you manage to go this long without training? Didn’t you get a letter when you were eleven? Something from Salem maybe? Carried by an owl or a raven?”

“Dean did.” Sam replied, as if remembering something. “Dad went ballistic, kept us traveling for months till the letters stopped. When I turned eleven…It’s one of the few birthdays I can remember where Dad was home. I was so happy he was there, I’d forgotten all about the ravens that had followed us before. But he was distracted all day, like he was looking for something.”

“You two need training, and I mean now. As soon as Potter is well again, I want her working with you to strengthen your control. That your father has let this go on this long is irresponsible, and yes, I can say that, because I’m a Healer.” Draco insisted, angrily, and turned to face the man who was slowly waking up. “Did you know that when you suppressed their magic, you could have turned them into Obscuri? Do you even know what that _**is**_? You could have turned both your sons into uncontrollable dark parasitic forces that combusted and destroyed _**everything**_ before they perished, because you forced them to suppress their magic. _**That’s**_ what you almost did to them. That they haven’t become so is a miracle. Another thing. I don’t know exactly where or how you got this knife, but it’s _**not**_ yours. This belongs in the Malfoy vaults, and if I ever decide to let it out again, it won’t be to you that it goes.”

Before the man could say anything, Dean walked back into the room.

“Will she be alright?” Dean asked. “And what’s this about us being magic?”

“Dean, don’t.” The man on the floor ordered.

“That’s enough, John.” Bobby warned.

“It’s bad enough that demons are after Sam. If they do this, neither of them will be safe.” ‘John’ shot back.

“They’re not safe now, John!” Bobby scolded.

“Demons wouldn’t be after them if you’d have let them learn their magic when they _**should**_ have.” Draco felt the need to point out.

“Harriette can train us, he said.” Sam interjected. Dean seemed to brighten up at that.

John just shook his head, stalking out of the room without a word to his sons or his friend.

“So…has she told you about how her motorcycle can fly?” Draco asked, trying to lighten the mood. The shocked and impressed looks on their faces told him everything. “Bloody hell. Has this woman told you anything?!”

“Yeah, but it was all over something called FireWhiskey, which I would not be opposed to trying again.” Dean replied, with a mischievous grin. “Last time, I caught Sam’s hair on fire with a belch!”

* * *

 

“So, what did we learn?” She heard Draco ask, and she groaned.

“Don’t let the crazy muggle up from the chair without checking him for weapons first?” She offered, with a snort.

“Of all the foolish things to do, getting stabbed by a crazed muggle after defeating the Dark Lord ranks right up there.” Draco commented. She cracked an eye open to look over at him. “Really, Harry? Really?”

“When you say it like that, I feel like I’m eleven again.” Harriette groaned, though she had a slight smile. “I’m all wounded. Read to me?”

Dean snorted, which lead her to realize that he along with Sam were on one side of the bed, while Draco and Bobby were on the other.

“Oh dear.” Harriette groaned in realization. “How much trouble am I in?”

“Harry, why didn’t you tell them about the war? I mean, Singer over here knew, but even he didn’t know everything. How could you not even tell him about the Dursleys? Or the Hallows?” Draco asked, out of concern.

“I’d just escaped all that, and I know it’s selfish, but I wanted a vacation where I didn’t have to think about being a child soldier, how they wanted me to run for Minister of Magic, or just what it means to _**be**_ the bloody Master of Death, or any of it.” Harriette answered. “Was that too much to ask for?”

“Could have at least told us about the flying motorcycle.” Dean grumbled, but one look at him and she could see the smirk he was trying to hide.

“Maybe I’ll take you on a ride sometime.” She teased. “It’s bitch’n.”


	4. Finding the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's truths to tell and discover, and with Harriette, that's never boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being so patient!

Chapter 4

 

“Hey, um, Harriette?” Dean called, getting her attention. “I think your bag is buzzing.”

“Oh! Hand it to me, would you?” She asked, as she tried to sit up a bit better in bed.

Bobby helped her sit up, and moved the pillows to where she could rest on them. Draco had been quite clear about her care for a while, and she imagined that meant they were going to hover for a while. Once Dean handed her the bag, she began digging through it, her whole arm disappearing into the bag. Harriette had introduced them to a wide variety of magic, but the trunk space still amazed him, and this bag was no exception. It was like having Dr Who tech in front of him. He was sure Sam was ecstatic, and possibly taking notes.

“Here it is!” She exclaimed, pulling out a hand mirror. The thing looked like that enchanted one off of Beauty and the Beast, not that he would admit to having watched that under any circumstances ever, and it was the thing that was buzzing. “Sirius? Is that you?”

“Hey, Pup, how’re things state side?” A roguish sort of dark haired man asked. Sirius, he assumed. “They treating you right? Why are you in bed already? What time is it over there?”

“About that…You might want to sit down. Are you sitting down already? How are things there? Think I can avoid this conversation till never rolls around?” Harriette asked, cheekily. “The muggle Auror’s here have a thing for your bike already.”

“Not my baby!” Sirius exclaimed in alarm.

Dean grabbed the mirror out of her hands, and promptly walked out of the room, ignoring the protests from Harriette and the others.

“Your girl’s an idiot.” He stated, feeling really weird about talking into a mirror, but whatever.

“What about this time?” Sirius asked, mildly amused. “And who are you?”

“I’m Dean Winchester.” Dean explained, as he stepped outside. There was a good chance he could avoid Bobby and Sam if he walked through the maze of junk. “First day I met her, she beat the shit out of me and my brother Sam for breaking into her Uncle Bobby’s house. I’m talking ‘ _got the drop on us, beat us to shit in hand to hand combat, and smacked us around with our own guns_ ’, all because we broke in at night, and tried to do a sweep of the house. In fairness, we thought someone had taken the man hostage or something. The man was _**cleaning**_. He never cleans. _**Ever**_. Anyway, after that she gave us back our guns. Who _**does**_ that? I didn’t know about natural magic till she showed up, and being a Hunter, you can imagine what I tried to do.”

“You shot my pup?!” Sirius demanded, angrily. He was really glad that man couldn’t use magic on him from all the way over there. He looked like that mass murderer he’d seen on the news a few years back.

“I said I _**tried**_ , alright? Not exactly a shining moment for me.” Dean admitted, scowling into the mirror. He was trying really hard to think of it like scype or something so it wouldn’t seem weird. It was still weird. “Anyway, we’re talking about _**her**_ idiocy, not mine.”

“Fair point, but we’re talking about this later.” Sirius insisted, brokering no argument.

“Agreed. My dad showed up yesterday, the person who put it into our heads all magic was bad; in case you were wondering, and-” Dean grumbled, taking a quick left when he thought he heard Sam shouting for him.

“Let me guess, she was an idiot.” Sirius interrupted, amused once again.

“Yes. I’d never seen anyone get stared down by my dad, and not be intimidated, but then there’s Harriette.” Dean stated, doubling back now. He almost missed the odd look he got for saying her actual name like that. “She gave him a verbal beat down for suppressing our magic, because apparently we’re wizards too, and then. _**Let**_. _**Him**_. _**Go**_. Dumb ass stabbed her with some kind of demon killing knife, which wrecked her system for a while. She’s also not been telling us, or at least Bobby, some very important information he should have known already. Speaking of which. Who are the Dursleys, and are they dead yet? – Hey!”

“You’re the dumb ass walking around with a girl’s mirror, idjit, and I know this junkyard better than you.” Bobby remarked, having stolen the mirror from Dean and made to navigate the maze of junk with ease. “So, what’s this I hear about Harriette sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs? Who _**are**_ these people?”

“The worst sort of muggles you can imagine.” Sirius explained, not surprised in the least by the exchange. “So, you’re the uncle? Is it like this all the time?”

“Yes, and generally.” Bobby answered, before adding. “So, you’re the godfather?”

“Reportedly crazed mass murderer too, in case one of those mongrels goes sniffing around my pup.” Sirius replied, with a grin. “Never convicted, mind you, but leaving a man alone on a prison rock with a bunch of Death Eaters and soul sucking Dementors for twelve years will do things to a person.”

“I’ll be sure to play that up if either of those two idjits ever get any ideas. I _**thought**_ you looked familiar.” Bobby chuckled, weaving out of the way of a pile of junk that looked suspiciously like it was about to fall on him. “How in the Sam Hell did she become Master of Death?”

“Did they ever tell you stories of The Three Brothers as a kid?” Sirius asked. Bobby nodded, barely avoiding Dean’s grab through a thin patch of metal. “Uniting all the Hallows was the key to that, and we’re not even sure what that will mean for her, or why Dumbledore was so insistent on them. They had nothing to do with the actual war, except that Voldemort was obsessed with the Elder Wand and Dumbledore had it.”

Sam swiped the mirror from him, and began running over cars to get away from Bobby.

“So how is it that there was an entire Wizarding war, and no one outside of that world knew about it?” Sam asked, as he kept running over cars.

“Muggles have wars all the time and not everyone knows about those.” Sirius pointed out, though he looked like he was having a hard time keeping a straight face now. “You guys are Hunters, so you pay attention more than the average muggle, but even _**you**_ didn’t pick up on what was going on here. All we ended up catching was a bunch of Men of Letters sticking their noses where they don’t belong. It was lucky for us Gringotts stepped in, reminded those ponces who they work for. Those guys are kind of like a hands on research department, only way more brutal than you’d expect.”

“Who’s Gringotts?” Sam asked, just before he had to jump in order to dodge Bobby making a grab at his ankle.

“Wizarding bank ran by goblins, and I wouldn’t recommend staring at or insulting them.” Sirius stated, as if from experience. “They’re a warrior race, and they hold long grudges, so tread lightly when you stop over there. No doubt my pup will want to set you two up with employment and an account with them as soon as possible. Shouldn’t Bobby have told you about this already?”

“Dad’s an ass.” Sam replied, as he jumped off one of the cars and made a beeline for the house. “Suppressed our magic. Didn’t find out till yesterday. Your girl dropped the bomb on us. Is the whole flying on brooms actually a thing?”

“Yes, it is. We even have a sport built on it. Remember to ask her about Quidditch. We brew all of our alcohol in large cauldrons, which is where that imagery comes from, in case you were wondering.” Sirius replied, right before the mirror was jerked out of his hands as it flew threw the air and into the open window that was Harriette’s room.

* * *

“It looks like you’ve got your hands full over there, Pup.” Sirius remarked, once she’d gotten the mirror back.

“A bit.” She admitted, with a grin. “I don’t know about being a teacher again so soon though. Too much like D.A. Maybe I can get someone _**here**_ to teach these two idjits.”

“They won’t be as good as you.” Sirius replied, before breaking out into a big grin. “Not like I’m biased or anything.”

“Of course not.” She mock gasped. “How dare you accuse yourself of such a thing? I should have you arrested!”

“Moony and Tonks say hello, by the way.” Sirius stated, still in a good mood. “I’ve received no less than twelve Howlers from Molly wondering where you are, inquiries from ministry officials, reporters, adoring fans, and various well wishers. The goblins have had nothing to say so far ( _he adds with a wink_ ), almost as if they know something. Kingsley even stopped by personally, asked me if I knew anything, as if I would say if I did. Glad you convinced me to go into business with the twins. The prank business is going well, even got some orders from the Auror department.”

“Merlin’s Pants, what have I unleashed upon the world?” Harriette asked, with mock horror, before rolling her eyes. “I love Molly, but I think the only reason she’s really upset about this is she still views me as a kid, while also wanting me to marry one of her sons. My money was on Bill, but he and Fleur are happy, despite Molly’s interference. Charlie is too smart to leave Romania, not that anyone could blame him. I would _**kill**_ Percy with his own drool covered pillow. So that leaves the twins, and…Really? She wanted to set me up with one of the twins? George? Fred? Or Both?”

“It was Ron actually.” Sirius chuckled, laughing harder when she made a face at that.

“But he’s like my _**brother!**_ That’d be so gross!” Harriette exclaimed. “Anyway, thanks for fielding the mail for me for a while.”

“You’ll never guess who left the Ministry in a blaze of glory.” Sirius insisted, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

“It certainly wasn’t Percy.” Harriette snickered.

“Even better.” Sirius insisted, leaning in a little in the mirror. “Hermione.”

“ _ **WHAT?!**_ ” Harriette exclaimed, in disbelief. “What happened?!”

“She found out they were just using her for the publicity.” Sirius stated, shaking his head at the foolishness of it. “They never had any intentions of passing any of her laws. They just wanted her to there to make them look good, and like the bloody fools they are, they expected her not to figure it out. Well, she did. She may have also blasted apart the monuments in the atrium, the ones that supported rights for all, because they weren’t actually giving rights to all. So, she may be wanted for destruction of property, but I don’t know anyone brave enough to go after her, besides maybe you.”

“Did she just blast that one? Or did she get the one with The Golden Trio too?” Harriette asked, curious. “If not, she has to go back.”

“That was the first one she blew up, actually.” Sirius admitted, outright belly laughing now. “She’d bought a bunch of Weasley products, and set them off throughout the ministry. There are swamps everywhere, firework dragons, rude mistletoe, the works. She brought the Ministry to it’s knees and left it in shambles, and then she just left it like that. The Marauders couldn’t have done any better. I’m going to have to get her something extra for Christmas just for the publicity alone!”

“Send her here, will you?” She asked, suddenly having an idea. “I think she could use the time away.”

“If I hear from her again, I’ll let her know.” Sirius replied, then looked around her head. “Am I going to have to come over there or something? You’re practically surrounded by Hunters there.”

“No worries, Sirius.” Harriette teased. “I promise.”

“Yeah, that’s what worries me.” Sirius barked back laughing. “Stay safe, Pup.”

“Would one of you mind telling me what that was?” Harriette asked, when the call was over, knowing they were outside the room listening in.

“You weren’t going to tell him what happened to you.” Dean admitted, giving up hiding as a bad job, as he stepped into the room.

“There’s a reason for that. That man is barmy as fuck, has been wrongfully imprisoned in the _**worst**_ wizarding prison on earth, surrounded by creatures that can literally _**suck out your soul**_ , for twelve years; before escaping it only because he thought I was in danger from a guy that was hiding out as a rat with a missing toe.” Harriette exclaimed. “On top of _**that**_ , now that he is a free man again, he is Lord Black of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. If God was the type to need money, this man would still have _**more than him**_. There is _**no**_ where your father could go that Sirius Black could not find him if he thought he was a threat to my life, and if that wasn’t enough, he’s my godfather. I distinctly remember telling you that before the drinking games started.”

“So, you were trying to protect Dad?” Sam asked, deciding to enter the room now.

“ _ **Yes!**_ ” She exclaimed, exasperated now. “Is that _**really**_ so hard to believe?”

“Considering he stabbed you?” Dean pointed out. “Yes. It is.”

“You tried to shoot me, and I defended you.” She reminded him.

“That friend of yours, Malfoy, brought up a good point. You haven’t told us, mainly me, hardly anything.” Bobby stated, walking in and plopping into the seat next to her bed. “I think it’s high time we changed that. Don’t you?”

“Unca…” Harriette winced, dreading this more than anyone could know. “It isn’t a good story, Unca.”

“I’d say not, with that brand on your wrist.” Dean pointed out, grabbing it before she could hide it from her uncle. “Why do you have ‘I must not tell lies’ branded into you like that?”

“That’s the work of a blood quill, something that was used in fifth year, which is way ahead of the story you lot want me to tell.” Harriette sighed. He let her wrist go, but all three men were looking like they very much wanted to kill whoever had done that. “This is going to take a while, if you want me to tell you all everything. Might want to sit down, or grab a snack. A few beers wouldn’t hurt.”

“You sure you want us here?” Sam asked, out of consideration. “I mean, it’s not been that long since we tried to kill you ourselves.”

“Bobby trusts you, so I’ll try to as well. Besides, I’m going to teach you magic soon. Best to know who you’re dealing with.” Harriette replied, with a slight smile of acceptance. “I’ve avoided it long enough, I suppose.”

It’s a good thing she’s made it to where they can’t leave the room, because only a few minutes into the story, and they already want to kill someone. Maybe it’s a good thing Dumbledore’s already dead, she mused, or else this lot would end up in Azkaban for trying to kill him. Who sets a baby out on someone’s doorstep in the middle of Halloween night, with nothing but a basket, a blanket, and a letter? Babies have still developing immune systems, and that could have ended very badly. When they calmed down, she warned them that the story wasn’t going to get any better from there, and they all sat back down with grim expressions to hear the rest of it.

She told them how she grew up with the Dursleys; how she was made to cook and clean for them, how she was forced to wear Dudley’s hand me downs, how there were no pictures of her in the house, how Dudley and his gang chased her and broke her bones on multiple occasions but never got in trouble for it, and how she was locked in her cupboard under the stairs when something freakish happened. She talked about the owls, and all the strange things that happened, about the Boa constrictor she’d set free on accident, about Hagrid and his chocolate cake. She told them about Diagon Alley, and how her very first present was a beautiful snowy owl named Hedwig. She told them about finding the Weasley clan, and making her first friend, and getting into all kinds of trouble together. She told them about the Sorting Hat, and how the Houses worked, and how she’d desperately wanted to be put in Gryffindor where she just knew her new best friend would be; because that’s where all Weasley’s go.

She told them about the troll incident, saving Hermione, everything that happened with the dragon incident, and staying at Hogwarts castle for Christmas. Dean’s eyes lit up at the mention of the invisibility cloak, and how she’d used it. Sam was intrigued by all the classes she mentioned, and how they navigated the traps set up to protect the Philosopher's stone. Bobby just looked like he was going to have some kind of epileptic fit at how she’d been able to get away with that, and the adults had thought to reward her for her recklessness instead of scolding her for nearly getting them all killed. Telling them about Quidditch had been especially fun, and something she used as a tension breaker when things got to be too much, recounting matches like she was Lee Jordan.

Telling them about what the Dursley’s did when she got back was tension filled, though Sam was intrigued by Dobby. Bars on the Windows? A cat flap on the door? Not let out for hardly anything, and she’d not been able to do magic or risk getting expelled. It was clear to them that the Dursleys had meant to starve her in there. A flying car? Now that was something Dean could get behind. A daring rescue, and escape from the Dursley’s? Priceless. Describing the Weasley’s home had been wonderful for her, and she delved into it, making sure to explain cooking magic and how Mrs. Weasley was the most amazing woman ever to a young kid who’d never known the kindness of a mother figure.

She talked about how Dobby had closed off the entrance to the platform, and flying the Ford Angela to Hogwarts. The mystery of the Chamber of Secrets had taken up most of the year, and explaining that there had been a sixty foot basilisk under the school for over a thousand years had been another tense moment, because she’d had to explain what a basilisk was, what it could do, and then she’d explained how she’d nearly died killing it. It was pointed out to her several many times, that the only one that had been chastising her behaviour other than Professor McGonagall, was Professor Snape. He’d been the only one to call her out for her recklessness, and take her to task for it, even though he’d been a right bastard about it.

Explaining to them why Snape had guarded her so much, and had hounded Neville to the degree where he’d become the boy’s worst fear, was skipping ahead a bit in the story, but as the man was still alive, she’d like it very much if they didn’t somehow manage to leave and kill him. Having him secure the basilisk had been important, after all, but that was for later. Oh, and she’d made sure to talk about the idiot that was Lockhart. That man had been more dangerous than anything, having been so easily underestimated, but she shivered at the thought of someone being able to erase her from memory the way that man had done to so many others. Explaining third year hadn’t gone much better, but at least there’d been Lupin.

She’d told them about Aunt Marge and her dogs, and how she’d kind of turned the woman into a balloon that summer. She’d told them about running away, and living in Diagon Alley for a while. Then they were hearing about the mad man, Sirius Black, and how no one had thought to tell her anything about him or that he was her godfather. She was glad that they had met Draco before this, so they wouldn’t want to go kill him now, because he had been a right twat that year. Hermione punching him really had been brilliant though.

Sam was very interested in the time turner, the mechanics of how it worked, and the rules around using one. Dean was more interested in the Map of Hogwarts. Then came the night she nearly killed Sirius, the night they discovered Peter Pettigrew had been Scabbers the whole time, the night that Professor Lupin almost killed them by forgetting his Wolfbane potion and turning into a werewolf. After telling them about how they’d saved Sirius and Buckbeak, Bobby called for a break. This was way more information than he’d been prepared to handle in one go, and he needed a drink.

After he came back with drinks for everyone, even the wounded, she started her stories again. Bobby almost lost his shit when he heard about the Triwizard Tournament. The Winchester boys didn’t understand why he was so angry till she started explaining what it was, and then their expressions grew dark as she explained how a fourteen year old girl had been trapped into competing in such a death tournament. Draco had come back about this point to check up on her, and decided to stay to add his own commentary. It helped that he knew things she didn’t, like what the other champions had done for their tasks, and of course he’d made sure to comment on her own performance.

“Did you tell them about breaking into Slytherin House in second year?” Draco asked, making Harriette groan.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” She asked, with a snort, rolling her eyes before she starts that story. “Okay, so backtrack to second year, yeah? Everyone is losing their shite trying to figure out who the Heir of Slytherin is. After Draco cast the spell that outed me as a parselmouth-”

“I did apologize for that, you know.” Draco interrupted.

“Hermione was even more insistent that we figure out who it really was, so that my name could be cleared. Harry Potter sicking a monster on muggleborns doesn’t sound very good.” Harriette explained, briefly glaring at Draco for interrupting. “So she makes polyjuice potion in a girls lavatory that was haunted by Moaning Myrtle, and me and Ron drug and bound Crabbe and Goyle in order to steal their hair for the potion, and slip into Slytherin House.”

“What she’s not telling you is that during her questioning of me, because they thought it was me of course, they started to shift back into themselves.” Draco snickers. “Her scar shows up clear as day, along with Weaslebee’s red hair, and suddenly their bolting out of the common room like a couple of loons. The real Crabbe and Goyle come back later, completely stoned, and talking about flying muffins.”

“That’s how we got to them.” Harriette admitted, highly amused. “We literally floated a couple of chocolate muffins in front of them, and they fell with a boom.”

“Granger turned into a cat lady for a few weeks while Uncle Sev worked out the potion to return her to normal.” Draco remarked, with glee. “So whenever she calls me the amazing bouncing ferret, I meow at her. She becomes super indignant and spatty, like an angry kitten.”

“I’m sorry. Amazing bouncing ferret?” Dean asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“You haven’t gotten to that part yet.” Draco sighs in a resigned sort of way, and settles in. “Well, go on then.”

So, Harriette begins to explain Professor Moody to them, and the incident in question. Dean, who was still a bit frosty about having been turned into a pumpkin, cringed when she explained that ‘Professor Moody’ had transfigured Draco into a ferret and bounced him around the grounds. At the time, they hadn’t thought anything of it, and had thought it all in good fun, having a blast making fun of The Amazing Bouncing Ferret. Only later, Harriette explained, when she’d sneaked into the hospital wing that night to see him, did she realize the damage ‘Moody’ had done. By then, it was too late to get her friends to stop, and they didn’t believe her when she tried to explain what had really happened.

“We thought that the professor had placed cushioning charms down or something, still trusted that a certified teacher wouldn’t _**actually**_ hurt a student like that.” Harriette admitted. “What he’d really done was break several of his ribs. He had dark purple bruises all over his body. I don’t think I’d ever felt so rotten before.”

“Explains why you asked me to the Ball after that.” Draco snickered. “You felt guilty.”

“Also, because I was rubbish at dancing, and you were the only one I knew who had a chance of getting me through that thing without making an arse out of myself.” Harriette admitted, blushing out of embarrassment. “Helped you get rid of Parkinson for the night, didn’t it?”

“The look on Father’s face was certainly worth it.” Draco added. “You should have seen him, like he’d eaten a _**lemon!**_ Mother started making plans for blond haired green eyed grand children. Had to break her heart when I told her that we’d only agreed to a truce of sorts. Good thing too, or else the Dark Lord would have gotten all our money later.”

“You’re welcome.” Harriette remarked, grinning smugly.

“Just get on with it, Potter.” Draco grumbled in mock indignation.

“Are you sure? You know what happens next.” Harriette asked, giving him an out now. He gave a decisive nod, and she sighed. “Okay.”

This was the part that she’d been dreading, one of them at least, but she began to describe the resurrection ceremony. She’d been bound, stabbed, and forced to watch as the murderer of her parents was resurrected right in front of her eyes…naked. Seeing Voldemort starkers had not been on her to do list ever, and she probably needed therapy for that alone. Having to duel him had also not been on her list of things to do, and then she’d still had to take Cedric’s body back. Then she reveals Moody’s real nature to them, the disbelieving Minister, the chaos that ensued afterwords, how she’d been kept in the dark about everything that was happening in the wizarding world that summer.

But then Draco had cornered her at the start of the school year, and she began to work with the Goblins of Gringotts to switch his account into muggle currency and invest it there in a separate account that only the two of them would have access to. Lord Malfoy never knew where all his money was going, because he just assumed the Dark Lord was spending it all. The lessons of Occlumency from Snape had been awful, but she’d managed to buckle down and deal with it, and then there was Umbitch. Evil wasn’t darkness and gloom; it was pastels, polite fake smiles, and cute kittens.

Before they could even plan revenge, she’d dashed their hopes by telling them Hermione had beat them to it. Even Draco had commented on how positively Slytherin it was that Hermione had tricked the pompous woman into being captured by a herd of angry centaurs. Sixth year had been awful, a mixture of funneling money and making sure Draco didn’t lose his mind. She’d kept Hermione and Ron away by openly focusing on him. It had worked amazingly well, and she was a mix of feeling guilty that she was manipulating her friends as well as disappointed they could be so easily manipulated.

Then it was death, and running, and camping, listening to screams of torture, riding a dragon out of Gringotts, finding all the Hallows, killing a Dark Lord. There was a lot to talk about. Walking willingly to one’s death is not something one talks about with ease, and it wasn’t something others took well upon hearing. Those three were no exception, and Draco had had to help reign them in so they didn’t go off the rails. Afterwords, she told them about the cleanup of the school, going back to school, getting into the Auror program, helping with cleanup of the Wizarding World, before slowly realizing they were trying to groom her for a fast track way to being Minister of Magic. There wasn’t really much to tell after that, and she sort of just drifted off into silence.

“Damn, Harriette, just…Fuck, what the hell are we supposed to do with that?” Dean asked, looking more than a little dumbfounded.

“Kind of why I wanted to keep it to myself.” She admitted.

“You leave all that, come here, only to end up with us trying to kill you instead.” Sam remarked, shaking his head.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re nowhere near as successful as the last guy who tried.” Harriette teased, earning her a mix of glares and snorts, but no one seemed angry at least. “Okay, so when can I get out of this bed? It was just a knife. What’s a little stab wound between friends?”

“Potter, this-” Draco scoffed, holding out the knife ( _which in Harriette’s opinion, was way bigger than what she’d expected_ ) to her. “Isn’t just any knife. This thing can kill demons. Unfortunately, it kills the host as well. So, not exactly viable in the saving lives department. It would have killed you too, only it wouldn’t have been as quick as a demon’s death. No. It makes a witch or wizard suffer first, drains their life and their magic. You’re just insanely lucky that you’re the Master of Death, and have a massive magical core.”

“You know, one of these days, Death is going to get royally brassed off that we keep insisting it has a Master.” Harriette quipped, trying to aim for humour, but only succeeded in a strained sort of way.

“Potter…Harry…You can’t…You can’t just joke your way through…not about this, trust me.” Draco insisted, brandishing the thankfully sheathed knife at her. “This is a cursed knife, a Malfoy family artifact that somehow found its way to the United States, after being gone from my families vaults for over a century, and managed to find its way to you. You are lucky boy wonder over there was able to break through the Manor’s wards over the Floo to get to me. You are _**lucky**_ that he didn’t get lost in the Floo Network, considering that he had no idea what he was, what he was doing, or what to do if something should go tits up. Damn it, Harry, He was able to break through the Manor’s wards through sheer panic alone, with magic he didn’t even know he _**had**_. You are lucky that this knife didn’t _**kill**_ you before I could stop it, and you are going to properly appreciate _**all**_ of those things by resting and taking this seriously.”

She blinks owlishly at him for a moment, before breaking out into a mischievous grin that she can’t seem to help, and replies. “Yes, Mum.”

* * *

“What are we doing here again?” Dean asked, skeptically, as he pulled into the parking lot.

He looked around, not noticing anything of importance. It was a bar, one they frequented quite often when they were in town. Granted, he’d been in a mood when he realized his dad had lied to them so much more than he’d already understood. He could have been…Well, he didn’t know what he could have been, but now he and his brother were like broken toys or something, and it was odd how Harriette kept trying to help them when all they’d done was hurt her. What was worse was that he kept defending his dad, even when he knew he didn’t deserve it, and doing things like he was today; questioning her every decision, and generally being an ass.

Harriette said something about being under a geas, but Dean didn’t know what that was at first. Apparently it was like some kind of compulsion, only much stronger than a habit, something one does without reason or need. As he understood it, he was basically addicted to defending his father. It wasn’t all the time, and he could fight it, but he had a hard time figuring out how it happened in the first place. So, she ran a number of diagnostics on him, and now here they were.

“Dean, you and Sam both are under a number of Geas. For a man who feared you becoming wizards, your father used an alarming amount of magic to do that, though just _**how**_ he did it is what confuses me. As I understand it, he has no magic. Does he?” Harriette asked, after Sam had helped her out of the back seat of the car. “Would he use someone that does?”

“Yes.” Sam answered for him, seeing Dean’s jaw tense. He’d begun recognizing that as a sign of Dean fighting the geas he was under, and didn’t want her to push for Dean to answer. “It’s possible, but without knowing all of Dad’s contacts, it’s hard to say.”

“That’s why we’re going here.” Harriette replied, as they walked into the Silver Moon Bar.

“We getting a drink while we’re here?” Dean asked, following her as they went.

“After.” She replied, nodding. “I think we’ll need to after this.”

She took them to the back of the bar, pressed a couple of keys on the public phone, and stood back. They watched as the bricks soundlessly shifted, creating a doorway. Sam’s jaw might have actually hit the floor, something that had Dean snickering at him. Granted, he remembered his dad’s warnings against magic, but he’d begun learning from Harriette that not all magic was the same. It wasn’t all sunshine and roses either, but it wasn’t all demons and deals.

“Welcome to Dual Alley, and before you ask, it means exactly what you think it does.” Harriette stated, smirking as they walked further into the alley way. “Witches and Wizards are nothing without their puns, after all.”

Sam snickers and Dean just shakes his head. He’s pretty sure the whole terrible puns thing is just her, but he’ll not ruin her fun. He’s also sure that he’s going to lose Sam in the book store. Then again, he might lose them both in the Apothecary’s, and then it would be mayhem for everyone. Dean actually breathed a sigh of relief when the three of them passed both places.

Some of the people here looked beyond odd, and considering he could change up identities as easy as breathing, that was saying something. Some of them kept looking at him like they were going to kill him, but Harriette just snickered a bit at him, so he just assumed he was overreacting. A short time later, he and Sam were both being looked over by a bunch of guys in long dresses as they waved around wands and muttering as they went. Sam was busy asking the doctors questions, his vocabulary getting more and more complicated as they went. Dean just shook his head, both confused by the conversation and proud of his brother at the same time.

“You were right about the geas, Miss Potter. Mr. Winchester here is under a number of them, protecting his younger brother being one of them.” The Doctor said, once he was done.

“I’d do that anyway.” Dean objected, not liking that the man was questioning that.

“I wouldn’t doubt it. The Winchester line is known for loyalty to their own. The geas simply amplified that, but keyed with the need to defend your father without question altered what would have been a normal Winchester family bond.” The Doctor replied, with a nod.

“Why do I…” Dean trailed off, not knowing how to ask this.

“You mean why do you still feel the compulsion even after you recognize it for what it is?” The Doctor asked, and Dean nodded. “Recognizing it, and removing it, are two separate things. You’re just able to fight it better because you know it’s there. We’ll remove it, and then let you recover.”

“How long should the process take, Doctor?” Sam asked, curious.

“If there are no complications? No more than a half hour, but I’d want to keep you both for a little while after that to make sure everything went smoothly. You might feel some dizziness after, so we want to make sure you’re solid on your feet before you leave.” The Doctor replied.

“Excuse me, Doctor, but you don’t exactly look surprised to see us.” Dean remarked, eyeing the man.

“Your presence isn’t exactly news to the wizarding community of Sioux Falls, Mr. Winchester, but until Miss Potter arrived, no one thought to approach you.” The Doctor admitted. “Through Bobby Singer, Miss Potter was able to convince you to come in here. To me, that shows that you trust Singer a great deal, like family, and a part of that transfers to her because he’s loyal to her. Is he not? Be honest. Considering you still have the geas attached to you, if it wasn’t for Miss. Potter being here, would you trust a word I had to say?”

“Fair point.” Dean admitted.

* * *

AN: The Silver Moon Bar is an actual Bar in Sioux Falls. 

**Author's Note:**

> Should I make this just a one shot? Add more? If I add more, know that while I will use the characters as they are, I will wreck that plot like nobody's business, but it will be fun.
> 
> Pt 2: Thanks for the votes of confidence! I don't have a set schedule for this, but I plan to post more chapters on this as soon as I can


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